


Evergreen

by Kemmasandi



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 06:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18544498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: Optimus asks Arcee to go on ahead.





	Evergreen

**Author's Note:**

> Last old fic for tonight, unless I find any more short ones that can't be absorbed into the big optiratch collection I'm making. I remember absolutely nothing about this scene, and I wish I did because it sounds like an interesting, if probably very angsty thing :'D I suspect it may have been written primarily because I wanted to see Optimus _really angry._
> 
> As such, I have no idea what happened to Ratchet. Pick your own poison, I suppose. :')

...

EVERGREEN

...

Optimus was the last to leave the little dungeon, and when he did he closed the door behind him and ruined the lock and sliding track with three precise blasts from an ion cannon humming at the highest power setting.

From the safety of the base, Raf called up a ground bridge. Bulkhead and Bumblebee went through immediately, the Wrecker’s arm around Bee’s shoulders in a way that offered support and disguised the harsh shudders that wracked the little scout’s frame. Their Prime aside, Bee had been the closest of them to Ratchet. His horror was all too easy to imagine.

Arcee stayed behind. Optimus dealt with his emotions in a very different way; still waters that harboured a monster beneath the surface. 

She watched in silence as he investigated the nooks and crannies of the tiny dugout, seemingly purposeless. His expression was flat, his EM field pulled in beneath his plating. His movements were clean and clinical. Occasionally, he fired another shot into the walls of the bunker. Each burst left a deep crater of melted slag. The cannon was getting so hot she could smell the flash of each discharge.

Eventually–surely no more than two minutes, though it felt like a lifetime–she ventured a question:

“Optimus, sir. Are you coming back?”

It was another eternal moment before he responded at all. His helm barely turned; his optics regarded her from the corner of his half-shuttered eyes.

“Give me a moment more, Arcee.” 

Her spark chamber throbbed. This was worse than Cliffjumper. Worse than Tailgate.

“Please, Optimus.” She knew she was begging, begging like she’d never ever had to before. “We need you. We’re still here - we need you more than ever.”

He fired once more into the wall, and this time she heard an answering groan.

“Yes,” said Optimus. “First I serve the living.”

He whirled on his handiwork, slamming his massive frame shoulder-first into the wall. She shouted his name, thinking he’d gone mad, but the sheet metal gave way at the rivets and all around there was a rising infrasonic rumble as the structural weakness spread.

Optimus turned, and met Arcee’s gaze. For once, the contact was not reassuring in the slightest.

“Go now,” he said. This time it was an order. “I will follow you – you have my word.” 

Arcee glared back, a wordless challenge - _don’t you dare lie to me._ Trusting Optimus had always been a leap of faith, but the decision was not normally this hard.

Then she turned and fled the scene, swallowing her fear and fury. All she could do was hope she had made the right choice.

...


End file.
